


The Light Will Guide You Home

by shealynn88



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alien Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Consentacles, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, human!dean, tentacle creature!Castiel, weirdly wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: Dean is visiting his long-distance friend for the first time.  He knows what he wants, but does Cas feel the same?Dean laughs.  “Cas, is that you?  Can I…?”  He reaches out for a hug, then draws back in embarrassment. The human-like form throws him off, but heknowsit’s impolite to initiate physical contact with a Luminate, he’s studied the culture for over a decade.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 43
Kudos: 242
Collections: The AO3 SPN Kink Meme





	The Light Will Guide You Home

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [theao3spnkinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/theao3spnkinkmeme) collection. 



> Endless thanks to interstitial for the beta - on point and kind as always. <3
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>   
> Dean never did have the funding or connections to get an off-world job after he completed training, but that isn't to say the training was a complete wash. Back when Dean was in school, he picked up a pen pal as part of the Interstellar Relations Initiative. Oh, sure, language credits for writing two drafts of the message (Earth Standard, and partner species language), science credits (transmission and coding, alien biology) and even psychology and sociology credits (comparative thought processes and interspecies relations), blah blah blah, not that any of it matters now.
> 
> What does matter now is the pen pal himself (technically himself/itself, with a small part of themself/herself: Luminate language has a spectrum of pronouns as wide as the light spectrum the species partially inhabits). Castiel's a pretty cool guy, for all he isn't a guy or entirely physical. His perspective on human culture makes Dean laugh, and he also obliges Dean by sending pictures of himself. (Because when you make a horny teenager pick which alien species they want to be pen pals with, sometimes the floating, glowing mass of spiraling tentacles fits the bill very nicely indeed.)
> 
> They've been in touch for a long time now, and Castiel has grown impatient enough to make the offer: he'll pay for Dean to come out and visit. Dean's not sure how well he'll manage, finally being with his friend and crush in person, Cas twining around him, but, fuck it. It's time to find out.

Dean hates flying. 

Intergalactic travel has come a long way in the last ten years, and he’d done training in zero grav back when he thought he might actually have a chance at getting a post off-world. But he still hates the flying bits, where he’s just one mote of dust hurtling through the galaxy at lightspeed3, where the slightest miscalculation will turn him into atomic soup.

Sam says he thinks too much, but Dean’s pretty convinced that he thinks _just_ the right amount, thank you.

So when the lights fade into the soft green indicating it’s time for the passengers to clip in, Dean moves hastily to the cabin and seals into his six point harness for landing. 

Landing. He’s doing it. He’s finally landing on Valhalla 5, the gaseous planet that’s the home of his Luminate penpal and best friend (and massive crush and maybe love of his life, not that Dean lets himself think about that too much, really), Castiel. 

Dean looks down at the ticket again, the shining bars on his series 2 forearm panel bright in the low light of the entry/exit cabin. No way he could ever afford that on his own. Honestly, he’s still not sure why he accepted - he’s a stickler for _earning_ what he’s given. Except...well, he _really_ wants to meet Cas. They’ve known each other for 10 Terran years, now, and that may be a blink of a celestial lightforms’s...wavelength, but for Dean, it’s a _long_ time to feel the way he does.

The carrier lands without incident, and Dean files out with the high class passengers, refusing to feel self conscious in his secondhand water recycling suit and old tech.

Dean swipes his panel under the scanner for luggage and his pod is deposited with a thunk, ready to tether. He sets it to sync with his panel, then has to try again when it fails. He ignores the impatient huff behind him and the twisting in his stomach.

Synced up, the bag follows him through the port and he makes his way to the 600 nm gate (a shade of yellow he has to double check with his panel) and out into the bustle of the EMspheres, where they slow for passengers and then speed away along the track.

Castiel had said they’d meet Dean, but there was always the chance that they’ve come to their senses. After ten years, after paying for his ticket, after saying over and over that they want to see him in person…

Dean looks around again and there’s an odd sheen to the human he’s looked past twice in his search for Cas.

The man’s unkempt. Dark hair in disarray, long trench coat and a dark suit underneath. Fingers that move oddly— _sinuously_ , in some sort of indication of nerves.

“Cas?” Dean calls out uncertainly.

The man’s face brightens and he moves toward Dean, more gliding along the ground than actually walking.

Dean laughs. “Cas, is that you? Can I…?” He reaches out for a hug, then draws back in embarrassment. The human-like form throws him off, but he _knows_ it’s impolite to initiate physical contact with a Luminate, he’s studied the culture for over a decade.

He’d been expecting Cas to look the way he did on his ICEP ID - a blue tinged and glowing form of tentacles and feathers and tiny blue eyes in delicate formations along the main body mass. That, Cas had told him, was the form that was most natural for him when he was material.

Dean had been ready to spread his hand to allow Cas to greet him comfortably. He’d been ready to offer a cheek if they got that far. 

He feels like he missed that opportunity, now, but he fumbles out the waveform creator he’d made when he and Cas had first talked about meeting—the one he’d programmed with a message in the Luminate language. 

Cas tips his head and speaks in a low voice. “Hello, Dean. I’m very pleased to meet you at last.” He extends a hand and Dean reaches out to meet it, finding Cas’s skin warm to the touch and tingly from the gentle current of Cas’s electricity. It’s unreal to be feeling it in person. He tries and fails to stifle a grin as he switches on the WF unit to play the message.

 _Luminate Castiel,_ it starts, a soft array of light like an aurora hovering above the box. _It is an honor and a pleasure to meet you. I consider you a close friend_ (he’d considered a few words, his first choice close to ‘soulmate.’ But he’d chickened out and gone with the more broadly applicable, ‘close friend.’) _and I am so glad to be here, in your presence. Thank you for welcoming me to your beautiful planet and home._

Castiel’s smile goes wide, nearly inhuman, and a blue glow shines behind his teeth. His fingers pulse quickly, blue-purple in something pleased and vaguely...embarrassed. _Thank you_ , Dean is finally able to make out. And then the word he’d considered and discarded.

_Soulmate._

It’s short, but Dean is _intimately_ familiar with how it looks in Cas’s language. He’d programmed it to the nanosecond before swapping it out. He knew it, and he knows that’s what he saw shimmering over Castiel’s hand.

He goes cold. Hot. He grins like a fool. 

“It’s so, so good to see you,” he says finally. “Give me one minute…” He fiddles with the machine. It’s not something he can plug Common into and play Luminate back. It requires knowing each of the words and meanings and structures, waveforms and color protocols. But once he’s programmed it, he can recall previous iterations of the message.

There.

 _I consider you my soulmate,_ the box projects, out there for the planet, for Cas, to see.

That grin again, wide and glowing, and then a slow unfurling of tentacles from under the trenchcoat, shining blue-purple with an undercurrent of indigo that confirms his current gender, the superimposed colors shifting rapidly as Cas talks far too quickly for Dean to understand.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Dean says, watching the patterns change and move, each tentacle providing a different element of the conversation. “You weren’t sure if I’d still feel…” He looks up to meet Cas’s eyes and then scans across his body, distracted by the form. 

Dean interrupts. 

“Is this how you want to be? I want to be looking at you how you’re comfortable. I thought your eyes would be—” he gestures at Cas’s chest, where the mass of his form had been in the holo. 

Then, remembering that Luminate’s chosen forms could change over time, he hurries to correct himself. “I mean, as long as you're comfortable! I think you’re great no matter what—” and there are more patterns that he can almost read, and it looks like Cas is saying he wanted to look more human for Dean, more _normal_ —a soft peach color, three pulses and a soft aurora glow.

Dean goes cold. “You _are_ normal, Cas. You’re...you’re _perfect_. You’re my best friend, my…” he hesitates to say it in Common, in case Cas meant it differently, in case Dean’s understanding is flawed. 

He forges ahead, anyway. “My soulmate. I want you to just be...you.”

Small eyes, the same glowing blue as the human form, blink into existence across his chest. The trenchcoat becomes a cascade of something that looks like feathers, and his tentacles rise back behind and under him, and Dean reads him more easily, now, he’s been studying with Cas for a decade—position and direction of light, duration and color of the light pulses. Cas is smiling at him, and Dean holds out his hand.

“Thank you,” Cas says, reaching out with two tentacles and twining them around Dean’s arm. His voice is the same, and it’s still incredible to Dean that Cas has learned his language, going so far as to learn how to make and modulate sound waves. 

“This is more comfortable,” Cas continues in his incredible voice. “Thank you, Dean. I simply didn’t want to make you feel foreign here.”

Dean laughs. “I _am_ foreign here. It’s fine, though. I’ve always liked how you look.”

“You find me attractive?” Cas asks. Dean can see that he’s flirting in the way his tentacles blink pink at the ends.

“Attractive? Yeah,” and they’ve flirted before but in person, Dean finds himself unexpectedly bashful. “Sexiest lightform in three galaxies.”

Cas’s laugh is bright light and a low chuckle sound, and yeah. Sexy is _exactly_ how Dean would describe him. 

“Come with me,” Cas says. “I have an EMsphere waiting. Did you enjoy the trip? I know you said that space travel makes you ill. I’m sorry if it was selfish of me to ask you to come.”

Dean strokes over the tentacle in his hand in reassurance, getting a buzz of energy in acknowledgement. 

“I...I’ve wanted to,” he admits. “I mean, I felt bad accepting—before, when we talked about it, I was going to get a post near Centauri so I was closer. But I just...I couldn’t give up the chance to meet you.” He glances over and Cas is open and interested, happy. “It’s kind of like...I’ve been waiting my whole life, you know?” 

How in the galaxy can it feel so natural for Dean to be here, touching Cas, in a port two systems from his own, when he’s never been off Terra 3 before in his life? It’s unreal. 

It’s perfect. 

Cas is glowing. “I do know,” he says softly. “I feel the same.”

They share a look that convinces Dean he does, and he goes warm with it. Sure, they’d talked about it, sidelong, hinted at feelings and dreams of a shared future...but Dean hadn’t let himself hope for it. Not really. Not yet.

In the ride to Cas’s home, Cas asks Dean about his life—how are Sam and his family? Has Mary moved to Terra 4 yet? How is Bobby handling Dean’s departure? And look, Dean hasn’t worked with many immaterial beings before, but this feels absolutely as fantastic as he’d imagined, having a real conversation with Cas without having to worry about delays for solar storms or satellite issues.

Cas is fascinating. Dean’s always known that, but in person it’s more obvious. He’s smart as a whip — he’s an engineer with a team that creates new technologies used across the galaxies. He’s funny in a dry sort of way, and is always trying to do the right things, make a difference. 

Dean may actually be the luckiest human alive right now.

“It’s small,” Cas was explaining, “But I think you’ll find it comfortable. I constructed a station for you to sit and eat, and I bought food at the human market! They had ‘cheeseburgers’ there, so I got some for dinner with ‘french fries.’ I hope I remembered that correctly, they also recommended ‘onion rings,’ but I don’t recall you mentioning those.”

Dean is grinning, he can’t stop. “You remembered exactly right. Cas, this is all...you’re amazing.”

Cas shines yellow-white and then tinges pink again, and then moves back into his typical blues, as Dean squeezes his tentacle gently. 

“Thank you, Dean. I’m happy to do it. I want this to be a perfect visit for you.”

“Well, we’re off to a great start,” Dean assures him. “I’m really…” he clears his throat to hide the lump that rises. He can’t believe this is real; he can’t remember anyone ever doing anything like this for him before. “Thank you so much. It’s amazing.”

Cas’s tentacle twines further up his arm and squeezes lightly.

* * *

The food is amazing. Cas must have gone grade A simulation to start, and then, being a perfectionist, he cooks it with molecular level attention to detail. He doesn’t have a kitchen, of course, but Dean watches in fascination as he uses his limbs to excite the molecules of the meat until they’re steaming, and then serves it up with a flourish on a decorative ceramic plate.

it’s incredible. Crisp fried texture on the outside and pink on the inside, just the right amount of give in Dean’s mouth. Dean is completely overwhelmed with the tiny details Cas has thought of to make him feel at home. 

“I…” He laughs nervously. “Cas, this is...so much. I can’t tell you—”

He’s never been this bad at this. Ever. Dean Winchester has been charming humans for decades. It shouldn’t be this hard. “Thank you,” he says, looking over at Cas again, marvelling at his beautiful patterns and shapes.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas says, whisking away his plate. “I wanted you to feel welcome.”

“I do, I really do…” He swallows. “Cas, I...can I...touch you? To thank you?” He runs his thumb nervously along his lip.

“Do you mean…” Cas’s colors are going wild, and Dean’s glad to know they’re both nervous. “A kiss?”

Dean takes a deep breath, relaxing marginally. “Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

Cas moves closer, touches Dean gently with tentacles, smoothes over his shoulders with feathers. His eyes are narrowed slightly, giving a half lidded appearance. “Is this okay?” Cas asks.

“Yeah,” Dean tells him, breathless. “Perfect.”

Cas touches his lips with a tentacle, electric buzz making him gasp, and then Cas explores, sliding along his lower lip and dipping into his mouth gently. Dean opens his mouth and Cas slides in further, the single tentacle joined by another. 

“Dean,” Cas says, and his voice is strange and rough. “Dean, you feel… _oh,_ ” he breaks off as Dean licks at him carefully, sucks gently.

“Oh,” Cas says again, full of grey-blue wonder. “I’m not...I’m not going too deep, am I? I know your structure can… _Dean_ ,” as Dean sucks again. “...it can react poorly if I go too far.”

Dean backs up a little, letting Cas’s tentacles recede so he can gasp, “No, Cas, no that was perfect, so good. You can...again. And there are other...if you want. I want… _damn_. I don’t want to go too fast, but there are...ah…a lot of places I’ve imagined you putting those things.”

Cas brightens. Literally, fills the entire dwelling with bright blue light. “I’ve studied your anatomy. Your skin is very sensitive. In my studies I learned several types of stimulation that might be very pleasant for you. I would...I would like to try some of them. I would like to give you pleasure, Dean.”

“Oh, Cas. Fuck. You’re, ah, you’re speaking my language.”

“Yes, I am. Is it easier, to hear me? I know sometimes I speak very quickly in Luminate. It can be difficult for your rods and cones to process.”

Dean laughs softly, strokes a tentacle and then forms a gentle fist around it. Pulls very carefully. “It is easier, but I _like_ your language, Cas. I love how much you can express all at once. But what I meant was...you know. I’d really like it if we could, maybe, both get a lot of pleasure. Together.”

“Oh,” Cas says quietly. His eyes blink away as Dean strokes him, then pop back into being. “That feels very...nice,” he says.

“Is there somewhere we can lie down for this? It might be easier.”

“Yes of course.” Cas winds the tip of his tentacle around Dean’s fingers, pulsing gently, and pulls Dean just a few meters away. “I didn’t wish to make assumptions, but I did want you to be comfortable here, so I had this brought just in case,” he says. “There are also human accommodations in the lower layer, if you prefer them.”

A bed rises from the floor, simple and white, framed in something that looks like Terran wood. There’s a pole of the same wood at each corner, and when Dean leans over to press into the bed with the hand Cas isn’t hanging onto, it’s incredibly soft.

He turns back to watch Cas and then lets himself fall backward. “This is amazing,” he says, and Cas hovers above him, tentacles twisting in the air like he’s not quite sure what to do.

“You can touch me,” Dean says. “Can I...do you want me to take my clothes off?”

“That’s very intimate,” Cas says, hesitant.

Dean nods. “That’s...that’s why I want it.”

“Yes,” Cas says simply. “Can I help you, then?”

“Yeah, Cas. Definitely,” Dean tells him, heating up from the inside. This is better than he’s dreamed, and he’s, well, he’s dreamed this a _lot._

Dean lets Cas play with the buttons and snaps of his clothes, finds that Cas is a quick learner, stripping Dean down quickly and then looking him over with a million blue eyes.

Dean tries not to fidget. “What do you think?” he finally asks. Dean knew what to expect—Cas in the holos is very much Cas as Dean has been seeing him. But Dean has never sent nudes. He sort of wonders, now, if that was a mistake.

“You’re beautiful,” Cas tells him. In Luminate, he says _radiant, gorgeous, sexy._

“Oh, good. I wasn’t sure...y’know, you hadn’t seen me like this before.”

“No,” Cas says. “It’s very intimate.” His voice goes low, soft a whisper. “Dean.” His eyes shift and look up at him. “I want...can I show you my Grace?”

Dean feels a thrill go up his spine. A Luminate’s Grace is intensely personal. It’s uniquely theirs. Sharing it is how they have children together, it’s how they form romantic bonds. Dean can’t trade Grace with Cas, but he knows that the offer means a lot more than Dean being naked.

Dean wants to protest. He feels massively unworthy. But he’s afraid refusal will sound like rejection, and nothing could be further from the truth.

“I’d be honored,” he says instead. 

_Soulmate_ , Cas says. He rises over Dean until they’re no longer touching, and then he’s unfolding somehow, opening up and getting brighter, more intense. This light is warm, Dean can feel it on his skin like starlight. It’s blue, similar to the color Cas is when he’s not speaking, but it’s...alive. It’s pure. It’s not Cas’s speech. It’s.. _.Cas_. His essence. The deepest, most intimate parts of him. It curls like something living, tracing patterns in the air. It doesn’t move along Cas’s material form, it nestles inside it. It is everything that Dean loves.

And he’s thought it before, in weak moments— that he loves Cas, that maybe they could be happy together, given half a chance. But he’s avoided expectations up til now, he never wanted to open himself up to that world of hurt.

But this is an undeniable truth. That Cas feels it, too. There’s still a lot to learn, a lot to grow into, but _this_ is his future.

“Soulmate,” Dean whispers, wishing he could use Cas’s language to say it, that beautiful aurora of color and play and light has more complexity to it than the sounds he manages to make. “Cas you’re incredible.”

Cas folds up slowly, the light dimming and sliding back under the main bulk of his form. He reaches out and Dean meets him, grasps his tentacles where they reach for him. _You’re the only one_ , Cas tells him in light and color. _No one else has seen me._

“I wish I had a light to show you, Cas,” Dean says, and he can feel tears threatening. Doesn’t care. “If I had Grace to give you, you’d have it.” He says it without thinking, feeling it in his bones, down to his soul if he has such a thing. Then he realizes how offensive, how presumptive it was to say. “I’m sorry, Cas, I can’t possibly know—”

Cas reaches out to curl a tentacle over his cheek, along his lip. “I know,” he says. “I can see that you’re sincere. I think your Grace...it takes more time to show. But if you want to show me, I want to see it. I want to see you, Dean. I’m glad you were able to see me.”

Dean nods, opens for the tentacle and reaches out for more.

Where before Cas touched him with two or three at a time - the kiss, or guiding him around the pod or the port - now he seemed to finally understand that Dean wants more— is willing, _eager_ , to feel everything Cas will give him.

Cas fills his mouth, careful not to push too far, and Dean moans around him, licking over and between those wriggling tendrils.

Dean reaches out and Cas withdraws from his mouth slowly. “Dean, can I make love to you like this?”

“Yeah, yeah, please, of course, yeah,” Dean murmurs, still reaching for him, reeling him in.

Tell me,” Cas says, moving slowly between his thighs. “You must tell me if you need something more, if I cause you any pain.”

“I’ll tell you. Keep going. Show me what you’ve learned.” Dean can barely breathe as a tentacle slides across his balls, cinches around them and pulses gently. 

“Good,” he manages. “Gentle, there, just...oh, _yes_ ,” as Cas settles into a rhythm. 

And then, just as he’s beginning to get used to it, a tentacle corkscrews around his dick, and keeps going, slithering around him in constant contact and motion. Dean bucks up, writhes, so close to being overstimulated.

“Have you,” he tries, breathless. “Have you—can you hold me? My wrists?”

Cas goes still, then flares, _restrain you?_ , in excitement. “I’ve heard that’s a more advanced position. Do you want that...now?”

Dean swallows hard as tentacles tease at his fingers, waiting for his confirmation. “Yeah, Cas, please. I trust you.”

“Yes, Dean,” and he echoes it in his own language, a glow of orange and subtle blues.

Tentacles wind tight around his wrists and also around his calves and his knees and press him up, apart, exposing his ass to Cas’s curious gaze.

“I want to try something,” Cas says. “I’ve researched some anal stimulation techniques—”

“Yes,” Dean cuts him off. How can he be so damn sexy and clinical at the same time? “Yes, please, whatever you want.”

A different tentacle rises. Where the others are slim and pointed, this one is wide and a bit slick as it descends. Most of them are dry, incredibly smooth, this one is wet and slightly rough, and it probes at his ass but doesn’t try to press inside. It’s more like… _fuck_. Like a tongue. A wet, hungry tongue, lapping at his hole. Dean is almost disappointed by how human it is, and then something whip thin penetrates, passage eased by the mess that’s been left behind. Another joins it. Thin, still, but strong, and they start moving inside him, careful and curious, pushing and prodding like tiny fingers up inside him, even as that wet tentacle keeps licking at him.

“Is it all right?” Cas asks quietly. His skin is quiet. _Concentration._

“Yes,” Dean says, voice wavering. “Oh, my god, please, yes, it’s so good.”

The curious little tips start to pull him open, the wide tentacle starts to dip inside him, between them. The things he can feel seem impossible, focused pressure against his prostate, that wide tentacle pushing inside, pressing in further than any human could go. But Cas isn’t human, and he’s doing things that are beyond anything Dean could have imagined. Dean arches up, whines and breathes harsh noises, trying and failing to tell Cas it feels good.

“Can I stretch you more?” Cas asks in a hushed voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean groans deep and nods. “Yes, yes, a little, just a little, want to feel you, Cas, please, _please_ ,” and he’s rocking back and forth as more tentacles slide across his skin, over his ass cheeks, his thigh, and then press inside him and pull him wider, that same broad tentacle swelling to fill him, push him, spread him open until he’s gasping. “There,” he manages, “Like that, just that, just, _just_ …” 

And then Cas moves inside him, huge tentacle rocking in place and pressing relentlessly against his prostate. “There? Is that what you wanted? You look amazing, I love how you perspire, how you move, it feels—” His voice sounds like a radio that cuts out as he continues to move. “It feel so— _Dean_ —yes—”

There are more tentacles than he can count, or cares to, now. They’re plucking at his skin, examining with slow presses of the tiny tips and the thickness further down. They’re on his dick, now, and he’s so close.

“Good, Cas,” he says, doing his best to press back and forth, show Cas how much he loves it. “My mouth, kiss me, I’m gonna come, I need you, _please_...”

“I want that,” Cas says, “I want— _Dean—“_ He continues in Luminate, _gorgeous, soulmate_.

Dean’s mouth is filled, tentacles writhing inside him like they can’t control themselves anymore, but never too deep, not even once. He sucks desperately as Cas keeps moving that huge tentacle, thick and slick and still wriggling like nothing he’s ever had in his ass, and his dick, _fuck_ , Cas is just pulling that full length of tentacle up and down in that corkscrew, squeezing him and moving along and jolting with that light electrical charge, and then he feels it in his ass, that pulsing jolt of Cas’s electrical current, and dean is screaming silently around the tentacles in his mouth, thrashing against the tentacles holding his wrists, coming so hard he can feel the way he’s clamping his ass on Cas’s tentacles there and he can still feel that buzz inside him, and a second wave takes him by surprise, bowing his body as everything contracts down and then _explodes_.

He’s this close to too much when Cas starts to withdraw. First from his mouth, then his cock, then his ass, which takes forever. He can feel them leaving, one after the other, but he’d had no idea how many Cas has shoved in there. He moans as they continue to slide out, one after the other.

“Are you all right? Was that okay?”

“Was that...okay?” Dean laughs softly. “Oh my God. That was, hands down, the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. I can’t…” He lies back for a long moment. “Can you--is it good for you if you come here and sort of...lie down with me?”

“Do you want to be cuddled?” Cas asks.

“Cuddled,” Dean scoffs. He contemplates. “Well, yeah. I mean, if you want.”

Cas flashes something like joy and contentment as he wraps around Dean. “I have never done anything like that. I felt...it was like we were…” His words are all over his skin, _the same wavelength._

“It was good for you?” Deans asks, curling into the vast cocoon of Cas’s limbs. “I need to—I really like to, uh...serve my partners? You know? I mean, I want to be able to give you something back, make you feel good.”

“You did. I felt amazing. I still feel—I don’t think it’s ever been like this. I feel weak. My material form has no weight. I am electrified, every waveform, every nanosecond. I feel alive with it, strong, too. It feels...you say… _magic_. It feels magical.”

Dean feels his body, buzzing from orgasm, surrounded by Cas. He feels safe, he feels cared for. He feels...home. Lightyears from his home planet, he feels like he’s right where he needs to be.

“Goodnight, Cas,” he says softly, fingers trailing over Cas’s form reverently.

 _Soulmate_ , Cas responds, pulling him closer.


End file.
